


Son of Stark

by Lithosaurus



Series: Self Indulgent ASOIAF stuff [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It, Sister-Sister Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 07:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16114124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lithosaurus/pseuds/Lithosaurus
Summary: "The war ended quickly and painfully, similar to the delivery of Catelyn’s son. Lysa’s labor took far longer but the child was worth the pain. The raven declaring Robert’s victory arrived just days after Robb and Hollis. Two sons with auburn hair and eyes as blue as a summer sky. They could have been twins. And that put a dangerous idea in Catelyn’s head."





	Son of Stark

Her first wedding day was a disaster. It started off well enough with Brandon sending a dozen blue roses to her chambers but disaster struck by midday. Lysa was quiet as Catelyn put on what should have been her wedding dress and tied up her hair. The other maidens of Riverrun tittered over Brandon’s gift and what a husband he would be, what a Lady of Winterfell Catelyn would make but Lysa didn’t join. She had seen Brandon in the garden with the Mooten girl, just as Catelyn had.

Her groom was handsome as ever when they met in the godswood. It felt like the whole of Riverrun was in attendance but she didn’t see them. Catelyn could barely take her eyes off of Brandon’s smiling face. It wasn’t until she heard the gasps that she realized why Petyr had looked so nervous. Poor, sweet Petyr. He had been as much a brother to her as Edmure. If she had known how he had felt about her…

Maybe she could have stopped him from challenging Brandon. Maybe she could have stopped their duel before her Wolf cut him from collar to belt. Maybe she could have avoided the look a betrayal when she swore he was nothing to her. Her foster-brother was whisked away to the Maester’s chambers for care and she was spirited away to her rooms. The wedding would continue tomorrow. To spill blood the same day as wedding would be a bad omen.

The raven from Winterfell stopped the wedding entirely. Lyanna, Brandon’s own younger sister had been kidnapped by the prince. He rode for King’s Landing without even saying goodbye. A moon later he was dead and Catelyn was marrying his poor imitation in Eddard Stark. Lysa was quiet, once again. More than that, she looked pale and drawn, almost scared.

The morning after her husband departed for the South, Lysa found her in her chambers. Catelyn was packing. It seemed like an impossible task. She had to fit her entire life in trunks to move it across the world. She didn’t know when she would return to Riverrun- if ever. Winterfell was as foreign as Asshai but that was she was heading, and to be its lady, no less. Her sister surveyed the chaos.

“Do you think Lord Stark will have a son next time you meet?” She said.

Catelyn didn’t know. She didn’t know if she was carrying his child. Didn’t know if the potential child would be a boy or born healthy. She didn’t even know if Eddard would be alive in nine moons turn.

“Do you think a single night with him would be enough?” Lysa asked.

“Perhaps.” Catelyn replied. “I hope so. Lord Stark needs an heir aside from his brother. Besides, plenty of woman carry after a single night with a man.”

Her sister grew a degree paler and her throat bobbed. What was she so fearful of? Unless…

“Lysa-”

“Petyr was so gentle.” She whispered. “I loved him, Cat. But he called out your name.”

“Oh, Lysa.” She pulled her sister into her arms. Just six and ten and a second daughter; she was even less prepared for this war than Catelyn herself.

“My moonblood hasn’t come since I laid with him.” Lysa mumbled into her neck. “It should have come last week.”

Catelyn’s mind raced. They couldn’t tell father. He was already arranging a marriage to Lord Arryn of the Vale. If he knew Lysa had lain with Petyr, a son of a minor house in Lord Arryn’s own realm, he’d be furious. She knew that Tansy tea could help women in Lysa’s position but also knew that it had risks. They needed to be somewhere safe.

“We’ll go to Uncle Brynden.” She decided. “He’ll know what to do. He’s defied Father before. Perhaps, if I can convince Father we’ll be safer hiding in Black Port.”

“Uncle Brynden’s keep is barely a hovel.” Lysa protested.

“Exactly. A hovel with few people who Uncle Brynden trust. We can keep this a secret.” She whispered her plan as if the walls of the castle could hear. She felt like a girl hiding stolen sweets with her sister and Petyr. Lysa’s eyes grew distant as she considered the possibilities. This was their best option, if they could convince Father to go with it. Finally, she nodded and Catelyn breathed a sigh of relief.

Hoster Tully was all too ready to believe his daughter’s mistrust of the Northmen. His brother could better keep his child in her time of vulnerability than foreign barbarians. Of course, Lysa had to go with Catelyn. They were little more than girls, after all, and a woman needed companionship beyond a few hardy homesteaders as she went through her first pregnancy.

Catelyn’s belonging were sent north to Winterfell once packed and she traveled east to Black Port. It wasn’t a hovel but it wasn’t much better. Their uncle’s holdfast was only a few years old and held few luxuries. Most Riverlanders didn’t even know where it was and travelers were nonexistent with the war. It was perfect. Uncle Brynden swore his steward to secrecy before riding back to the unraveling war and the two Tully daughters held each other close as they held their breaths and waited for the conflict to end.

It ended quickly and painfully, similar to the delivery of Catelyn’s son. Lysa’s labor took far longer but the child was worth the pain. The raven declaring Robert’s victory arrived just days after Robb and Hollis. Two sons with auburn hair and eyes as blue as a summer sky. They could have been twins. And that put a dangerous idea in Catelyn’s head.

Lord Eddard Stark arrived by ship with a wet nurse and a slight Northman of few words. Father had directed him to Black Port when Lord Stark’s raven arrived from Starfall, of all places.

“My Lord,” Catelyn curtsied when her husband arrived in the single hall of Fort Blackfish. “I present to you your sons.” Two redheaded sons, both resembling their mother. Eddard’s eyes widened as he oh so gingerly touched one small ear.

“My lady wife,” whispered in a husky voice. “You have given me more than I could have hoped for and in return I have disgraced you. I lay with another woman. A child was produced.” Lysa gasped. The steward didn’t.

The wet nurse stepped forward. A third boy sat in her arms. He turned his head to see them and stuck a hand in his mouth. Not a soul spoke. Catelyn, Lysa, Ned, Crannogman, steward, wetnurse, and three babes. They were the entire occupancy of the hall and not a single one of them made a noise. Catelyn stared at the child. Her ‘own’ sons could barely move their fingers, let alone sit of their own strength. And Eddard had never lain with a woman before their wedding night.

“This boy was not conceived after our wedding night.” She said, plainly. “Tell me I am wrong, nurse. Steward Wyle, you have children. Do you agree that this boy is moons older than mine own?”

The steward muttered inconsequentially. Catelyn stared down her husband who also seemed to be avoiding an answer.

“This is not your son, my lord husband.” She dared him to disagree. “Who’s is he then?” Eddard gritted his teeth.

“Lyanna Stark’s.” The Crannogman croaked.

“Lyanna’s?” Catelyn repeated. “Then his father…”

“Rhaenys and Aegon were slaughtered in their own home.” Eddard spoke softly. “Tywin Lannister lay their bodies before Rob- King Robert and he asked for Viserys. He would kill this boy without a second thought. I promised my sister to keep him safe.”

Catelyn peered down at the dark haired boy with his grey eyes. There was not a drop of his father in him, same as Hollis. He frowned in an expression so like Eddard’s own that she had to smile. She sighed. What was one more lie, after all?

She lifted him from the nurse’s arms and held him next to his brothers. In a few moon’s time, only the most experienced of child rearers would see a difference in their age.

“Then I must say I also tried to deceive you.” She said. Eddard blinked in shock but as she explained his eyes seemed to grow wide with respect.

“Three sons.” He tested the idea on his lips. “I would be most lucky to return to Winterfell with three heirs. He smiled slightly and took her hand. In her arms their three sons fit together.

**Author's Note:**

> I've gotten a fair number of responses to this asking for more. I'm going to be working on a longer piece (very slowly) and make it part of a series.


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